


Hermione Granger, Total Wanker

by heyitsamorette (AmoretteHD)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Hermione wanks, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lust Potion/Spell, Masturbation, Potion gone wrong, Severus Snape Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6741115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/pseuds/heyitsamorette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape makes a potion. Hermione is curious. Her curiosity backfires. </p><p>Written for Merry Month of Masturbation 2016 (mmom on LJ)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hermione Granger, Total Wanker

Severus grinned, rather pleased with himself, at the brilliant blue potion swirling around in his cauldron. He gave it another stir for good measure, marveling at the silver flecks that swirled in its ether. Not only was he a creative genius, he was a master of innovation, a true beacon of progress. The title Potions Master suited no man better than it suited him, Severus Snape. 

They would praise him for weeks in the _Prophet_ for this creation. He practically rubbed his hands together in glee as he imagined the fuss they’d make, imagined his picture on the front page. Yes, the world would finally now the genius he possessed. No longer would Severus Snape do his important work under the veil of shadow, taking second stage to other men’s stories. No, not this time, god damn it. Snape was a new man, and surviving the war had given him a thirst for recognition. Sure, Potter and Granger had both told the world about his role as a spy for Dumbledore, and it had saved him from a long stint in Azkaban, but people still saw a Death Eater and an outcast when they thought of Snape. 

Well, not any more. He was owning his victories now, ready to shout them from rooftops and brag until he was red in the face. Although, a potion like this would do the bragging for itself. 

For he had just succeeded in creating the first potion in wizarding history that would mimic the alluring effects of a natural-born Veela. 

Well, that wasn’t completely true since he hadn’t tested it; so he wasn’t positive that he had _succeeded_ just yet. But he had every confidence that a quick trial would yield him perfect results. It was only a matter of finding the right subject. And for that, he had to submit it to a potions lab in London that conducted clinical trials. And he could hardly contain his excitement, itching to stick it in a box and strap it to an owl that afternoon.

Alas, he didn’t have the time just at the moment. He had that confounded meeting with Granger in three minutes to discuss her paper on Muggle-cultivated potions ingredients (cilantro was commonly used to flavour many Muggle dishes, as well as a base in many magical poisons). Snape had graded the paper a Troll. For old times’ sake. 

He at least had enough time to bottle his beautiful blue potion, which he tentatively named The Breath of Lust (he was working on it). During last weekend’s Hogsmeade trip, he had found the perfect glass perfume bottle to hold the sparkling elixir. It was, after all, meant to be sprayed on a woman’s neck like a fragrant perfume, though the potion itself was fragrance-less. Snape ladled the liquid into the bottle, then topped it with the elegant pump.

When he heard the knock at the classroom door, he brought the potion with him to his desk, where he sat in prepared to greet Granger. 

She didn’t wait for him to invite her in; the door swung open after the first knock and she stood there, wild haired and scowling. He tried to contain his smirk, but he figured he would never stop being amused by torturing the poor girl. 

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” he greeted. 

She stomped over to his desk, apparently skipping the pleasantries today and getting straight to the matter. “How do you justify giving me a T on that paper?”

“I justify it with the simple fact that I am the professor and I know what’s best.”

She balled her fists at her sides and let out an infuriated whine. “You are an insufferable man!”

Snape leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles beneath his desk. “Is that any way to speak to your teacher?” he asked lazily.

“It is if the teacher is an ungrateful arse whom I should have let bleed to death in that rotten shed!”

At this, he sat back up. “Now, Granger, no need to get _nasty_.”

“You’re the one who’s being nasty, _Professor_ Snape. I think you’re just embarrassed that I’m the one who rescued you, so now, in an effort to heal your battered ego, you’re punishing me with --” she brandished said essay in a shaking fist -- “shoddy grades!” The one injustice Granger could tolerate least.

How dare she throw such baseless accusations at him. They were preposterous. Certainly he was more mature than all that. He wasn’t punishing her because of his ego, he was punishing her because she was… she was… annoying. Yes, deeply annoying. Case in point, look at her current behavior!

“Granger, I believe this meeting is pointless and any further discussion of the matter will prove fruitless. But because I am a generous person,” he chose to ignore how she raised her eyebrows, “I will give you the opportunity to make up the grade with extra credit.”

She huffed. “Oh, wow, thank you _so much_ , Professor. How truly generous of you.”

“List all the ingredients in the Fever Drought and why they are effective in reducing fever.” He felt a pleasant tingle at the sight of her mouth dropping open. The Fever Drought contained thirty-six ingredients. “I would like it by tomorrow’s lesson.”

Fighting against intense snickers, Snape stood up and swept from the room through the door behind his desk. He would go to his chambers and have a private little laugh until she went away.

~ * ~

Hermione shook in her stockings. She could not believe how infuriating that man was, what a total and complete git he remained to this day. One would think he would treat her better as an 8th year than he had all her previous years as his student, but no, that would simply be too reasonable and mature for Snape. He had to insist on being an arse.

“Fine!” she snapped. At the shut door. She realized he probably couldn’t hear her anymore, but she just felt the need to shout. 

She would finish this extra credit in less than an hour, since she had already memorized all the ingredients of the Fever Drought last year in preparation, in case she needed to brew it on their Horcrux hunt. So, ha!

As she was turning to leave, the light from the gas lamps lining the walls caught glistened over something on Snape’s desk. Her eye was immediately drawn to the beautiful bottle in the corner. It sat there so plainly out of place -- a delicate, gorgeous perfume, whatever was it doing just sitting on Snape’s desk? -- that she found herself moving toward it out of sheer curousity. 

What did Snape want with a perfume bottle anyway? Did he have a girlfriend he was planning on gifting this to? Hermione frowned, the thought irking her. She certainly didn’t want to think of Snape doling out his affections on any poor, unsuspecting woman; the image was shiver-inducing. 

Her fingers traced the bottle, following the sparkles that swirled and mesmerized her. She wondered what it smelled like. 

Picking up the pump, she gave it a quick spritz and leaned into the puff of shimmery liquid to have a sniff. Perhaps that was not enough, because she couldn’t smell anything. So she held it up to herself and sprayed it all over her neck. 

She stood still, waiting for the scent to encompass her. 

Nothing. Just nothing. What kind of stupid perfume was this? The bottle might as well have been filled with water. She set it back down on Snape’s desk with a mental shrug and decided she didn’t care anyways; Snape was an odd man, and this only further exemplified that fact. 

Besides she had a lesson to get to. And she hated being late to Arithmancy (she hated being late to any lesson, really, but Arithmancy was one of her favorites). 

Hermione arrived on time, sat in her usual seat, took out her usual quill, and labeled her parchment with the day’s date -- as usual. But something felt unusual about today’s lesson and Hermione couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Something hot and fizzy seemed to begin in her chest and travel down to her gut. 

For starters, the Arithmancy classroom was unusually warm that morning. Did no one else feel that? Hermione looked around at the bored faces of her classmates; no, they looked just as they normally did. Meanwhile she pulled at the neck of her jumper. She was sweating under there. 

When Professor Vector came in and began the lesson, Hermione paid attention for all of three minutes before she became overwhelmed by a strange, tingly sensation. The heat over her neck and chest seemed to spread, roaming like a wild beast through her body, down her breasts and making her nipples harden, and then down her stomach and finally to her legs. It settled with a roaring lust between her thighs, and Hermione had to squeeze them together to relieve a tension that sprung to life. 

And it felt so, so good. 

What was happening to her? Was she ill? She was burning up like she was getting a fever, but she had felt perfectly fine this morning. And a fever usually didn’t give her these sensations... A fever never made her want to spread her legs wide open palm herself furiously. 

Oh, and it was getting worse every second. Hermione looked around her, cheeks burning, but everyone else was looking up at the professor (and one boy had already fallen asleep). Thankfully no one was noticing how damp her forehead was or how short her breath was coming. 

The tingling wouldn’t abate. And she couldn’t put it out of her mind either. All she wanted was to rub her pussy against the hard chair underneath her, but that would be too obvious. But by this time, she wasn’t picky. The more she tried ignoring it, the stronger the lust became, until she would have gladly let anyone touch her. That boy in the seat next to her? Hell yes, she would let him touch her. Even that girl over there, she wanted that girl’s fingers up her quim _right now._

Hermione realized she’d been biting her lip so hard it was bleeding. 

And she was _tapping._ Her foot wouldn’t be still, and she was drawing attention to herself, people were beginning to turn their heads, OH GOD.

She had no choice; she had to get out of there. Hermione grabbed her parchment and her quill and her book and stuffed them ungracefully into her bag. She nearly stumbled in her haste to get out. She thought she heard Professor Vector calling her name but she couldn’t be sure right then, and she couldn’t be arsed. 

Once she stepped into the hallway, she let the blissfully cool air bathe her overheated skin. But the urges didn’t abate. If anything, now that she was on the go, her feet wouldn’t stop. She was practically running down the hall, trying to find a private place. Any place would do. Anywhere she wouldn’t be disturbed.

She swung open the door to the first girls’ loo she passed. 

Throwing herself into the largest stall, Hermione immediately locked the door and dropped her bag on the tiled floor. She couldn’t bring her hands to her pussy fast enough. She lifted her skirt, and then with her right hand, she reached into her knickers until her fingers felt the slick, smooth skin of her inner lips. The bursting need quelled immediately, and Hermione felt like she could breathe again. 

With deliberate strokes, Hermione rubbed herself along the length of her pussy, massaging herself with her head thrown back and her eyes shut, focusing on the brilliant pleasure that built up inside her. Her jaw fell slack. All she knew was the feeling in her cunt and her desire to keep touching. 

Her mind roamed, showing her visions of faceless people holding her down and finger fucking her. Or a warm, wet tongue flicking across her clit, driving her to deeper levels of madness. She traced her fingers along her opening, circling the entrance, and imagined it was someone else’s firm hand. 

Soon, the sensation built and focused on her clit, seeming to swell from there until the slightest touch to her clit made her want to scream. It became so sensitive that when she rubbed it with two fingers rapidly, her orgasm broke, and she let out a gasp as her whole body quivered through the waves of it. 

She fell to the floor in a heap, the tile cold against her knickered-bottom, and her mind slowly resettling. Her chest rose and fell heavily.

What was this that had come over her? She had never been so compelled to masturbate in the middle of the day before. In the middle of a lesson! It was so not like her that a thread of embarrassment crept into her, and Hermione suddenly felt ashamed. She wanted to wash her own slick wetness from her hands in the bathroom sink and try to forget this had ever happened.

~ * ~

Severus emerged from his quarters with his packaging-paper in hand, ready to wrap up his dear invention and ship it off for instant, fame-garnering analysis. The possibility of finally achieving adoration and recognition from his contemporaries made him so buzzy with happiness, so blindly wrapped up in fantasies of congratulatory speeches and award ceremonies, that he almost didn’t catch it…

The potion had been moved. 

He had placed it on the corner of his desk, and then he had stepped out, and now it was in the center of his desk. 

Even Neville Longbottom contained the tiny amount of intellect to know that someone had moved the potion. 

Panic started to creep its dark way into Severus’ head, but he pushed it aside with this one thread of hope: just because it was moved doesn’t necessarily mean it had been used. 

And perhaps because he was so wrapped up in his dream, or perhaps because hope was the breeder of denial, Severus decided to continue forth to the owlery. 

There was nothing to be done now. The damage was done and losing his pants over it would solve nothing anyways. Besides, if someone was walking around with the alluring power of a Veela, it would become painfully obvious in no time and Severus could administer the antidote. Er… as soon as he came up with and made one.

But another panic-inducing thought assaulted him no matter how hard he tried to stamp it down: Granger had been the only other person in the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Contact me on tumblr: [@heyitsamorette](https://heyitsamorette.tumblr.com/)


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